tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7338692309503657532024-02-20T16:16:46.445-08:00Ruth Q. Leibowitz, Ph.D. Psychotherapist, Writing Facilitator, Coach, Tai Chi and Mindfulness InstructorRuth Q. Leibowitz, Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09684427443278265789noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-733869230950365753.post-44958308928482748352015-11-09T19:16:00.087-08:002023-06-27T18:29:40.107-07:00Self-compassion and a Cat Named Bromley<br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><span style="color: black;">Self-compassion is something we often lack in the modern, western world,
where individuality and achievement are considered so important. Many of
us grow up, and grow older, with the deeply held belief that in order to be
loveable, valuable, and worthwhile as human beings we must be better than
average (in at least a few areas, and sometimes in all!). This places us
in an impossible situation, since by definition of the word
"average," it is not possible for most people to be better than
average! We have a choice then about which internal voices to cultivate most
strongly-- the voices that tell us we're no good because we are imperfect,
ordinary, or even less than average in some ways -- or the voices
that offer comfort, friendliness, and acceptance even with our imperfections.<o:p></o:p></span><br /></span>
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">I think of the affection I feel for my cat Bromley, who I
adopted from the Oregon Humane Society about three weeks ago. He has experienced worse luck than average, having been "dumped" at the Humane Society with no note to let anyone know about why he was deserted by his previous human companion(s). At the shelter, he was so traumatized that he would not eat anything and needed to be force-fed. He likely survived only because a kind "foster mom" took him into her home, providing a quiet and safe space -- and there he stayed, slowly emerging from his frozen, traumatized state until I met him there. At our first meeting, he hid inside a cat bed and would not look at me, so I had only the word of the foster mom that he had any ability to connect at all.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Bromley is
thought to be between 10 and 11 years of age, so he is older than average and
is more likely to have (expensive) health problems and not grace my life for as
long as a younger cat would. He is shyer than average, so it is taking
him a long time to make his way out of the closet I set up for him with a
comfortable blanket and cat bed. He is average in his appearance -- a typical-looking
orange tabby. I could have adopted a cat who was younger, could relate to
me more quickly, and was more physically beautiful and decorative. Yet...
here is Bromley, who is worthy of a forever home not because he is above
average, but because he is a sentient, living being who has been abandoned and
is deserving of kindness.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">If I were to try to cajole or force Bromley out of the closet, that
would only activate his fight-flight system and he would stay inside longer, or
even come to fear me. So what I do is speak to him calmly, invite
him with my tone of voice, and my energy to expand his world. I provide him
with fresh water, nourishment, a large box of kitty litter, places to climb, and
a window to look out of. I incline toward him with caring, gentleness,
and friendly intentions. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">This is how it is to begin to practice self-compassion. We can
consider the possibility that we are worthy of love, care, and
safety regardless of our worldly achievements, regardless of whether
we are above or below average in a given trait, and regardless of what
difficult things we have heard about ourselves or experienced when growing
up. We can incline toward ourselves with caring, gentleness, and
friendly intentions. We can invite a sense of safety and
connection. We cannot force the feeling of safety and well-being, however, we can invite it with practices such as comforting self-touch, gentle words
towards ourselves, and lovingkindness meditation focused on the self.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Intention is a large part of an expanded sense of safety and loving, yet
more than intention is needed. For Bromley. my providing him with
practical things -- like soft blankets in the closet and the offerings of
fresh food and water - are three-dimensional acts of care that set the
basic conditions for comfort and safety and back up my intentions with
actions. So it is with nurturing ourselves. In addition to
inclining toward ourselves with goodwill, we can also set some real-world conditions of self-care. This real-world component will look
different for each of us. For example, for one person it might
look like adding a new activity to the schedule that is pleasurable
or interesting, while for another it might mean setting aside an activity
or two in favor of more rest and unstructured time.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Bromley is responding to both the kind intentions and the real-world actions
by spending a little more time out of the closet every day in my presence.
In the last couple of days, he has even sat next to me, touched noses, and
allowed me to stroke his belly. His inherent playfulness is beginning
to show itself. Our journey of positive connection is underway. </span></span><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="color: black;">The bigger challenge for me is this: To what degree can I treat myself
with the same patience, and kind regard that I naturally feel for my new
feline friend? This is much more difficult! Like Bromley, I am not
young, and I am somewhat shy -- I don't "shine" socially. I am
not above average in appearance and possibly not in any other attribute that is
highly valued by my culture. Might I still have the ability to love
myself, to sit with myself in friendliness, acceptance, and kind regard?
Sometimes I think it would be more possible to sprout wings and fly. And
yet... as I cultivate skills for self-compassion. I sit with myself
sometimes. I speak to myself kindly and let myself know that I am here
even in moments of difficulty. I let myself know that I am not the only
one in the world who suffers inside, who is imperfect, experiences difficulty, and doesn't have all the correct answers. And like my dear cat Bromley, I
begin to experience more safety and spaciousness in my life. Slowly,
slowly.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><span style="color: black;">I have been particularly inspired by the work of Kristin Neff and
Christopher Germer and took an intensive self-compassion course with them in
November of 2013. If you think you might like to learn how to be more
compassionate towards yourself, please see their website for Mindful Self
Compassion at: </span><a href="http://www.centerformsc.org/"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.centerformsc.org/</span></a><span style="color: black;">. They and the teachers they train do both weekly and intensive self-compassion
training in different parts of the U.S. and the world.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br /><span style="color: black;">As I experience the clear benefits of self-compassion practice in my
own life, I have become inspired to share the practices learned from Germer and
Neff (as well as others) with people in my local community. In that
spirit, I've begun developing and teaching self-compassion skills in the
Portland area. </span><span style="color: black;">If you are interested in future group or individual self-compassion work, please let me know via e-mail at <span style="background-color: white; font-weight: inherit; white-space: nowrap;">beautifulwordstogether@gmail.com.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">May you be happy, and healthy, and accompany yourself with kindness.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Ruth</span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfY9AfkOYxixr2ZxM5LKB4Y0mBP75GiiUPCuqfebPA_mK1N195uPvQ6Ttb9LuYDih7l1Bvmbru_OQOd8Zqc2G2lXLHfAkcz_KvLUnjz4nDzeU7aUseE7F1vtQWqqHA1OiWc-Rr-gHI4zt0oxtkOmq8B5mV50V5MiUkm2IaZqbavUfEr8sUETQyA/s640/Bromley%202020%20%232.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfY9AfkOYxixr2ZxM5LKB4Y0mBP75GiiUPCuqfebPA_mK1N195uPvQ6Ttb9LuYDih7l1Bvmbru_OQOd8Zqc2G2lXLHfAkcz_KvLUnjz4nDzeU7aUseE7F1vtQWqqHA1OiWc-Rr-gHI4zt0oxtkOmq8B5mV50V5MiUkm2IaZqbavUfEr8sUETQyA/s320/Bromley%202020%20%232.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">P.S. Close to a year has passed since I wrote the original post on Bromley. He long ago emerged from the closet, retreating back to it only when a complete stranger visits. He curls up by my side every night and is a master producer and bestower of purrs. He touches noses. He bats at the cat dancer from beneath the dining room chairs, and tears through my home, stopping to give me that "look" that invites me to chase him. He has such an excellent appetite it is hard to believe there was ever a time when he refused food. Bromley does not have the natural confidence of a theoretical cat who was blessed with a secure, forever home throughout life -- he will probably always be somewhat bashful and wary of strangers. These qualities are part of who he is -- part of his charm, uniqueness, and loveliness. When he feels safe, <em>which is almost all the time these days</em>, his kindness and ability to connect shine forth from his beautiful feline eyes. May he continue to be safe from inner and outer harm, healthy and strong, and filled with lovingkindness.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9CnKfURkTdUJ9pWweSl0H9qBCBKVDZnuwjRtCvOMElm83k_jRl0NZWy7W7FLFYJgqNYyb6b5BbvFLz_HOlmq1ftgbUhis4hHXSo1RPbRbVx2hyCV0nzxmEw4uCTYGOnsFujAcYI3OBGBefFVYZqOTalggwmk6WrGelIPg1mT4aCK6GQfv76Ggw/s3264/Bromley%20by%20Window%20I%20%202-20-15.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9CnKfURkTdUJ9pWweSl0H9qBCBKVDZnuwjRtCvOMElm83k_jRl0NZWy7W7FLFYJgqNYyb6b5BbvFLz_HOlmq1ftgbUhis4hHXSo1RPbRbVx2hyCV0nzxmEw4uCTYGOnsFujAcYI3OBGBefFVYZqOTalggwmk6WrGelIPg1mT4aCK6GQfv76Ggw/s320/Bromley%20by%20Window%20I%20%202-20-15.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">P.P.S. Several years have passed, and Bromley is now 15, with chronic kidney disease. I am doing what I can so that he lives happily as long as possible. We continue to be loving friends for one another, This will likely be his last summer, so I have trained him to walk with a leash and every day we venture outdoors together to experience the warmth and the smell of earth, plants, and other creatures who have left their intriguing scent trails. Today he lay on a pathway outside my front door, stretching out in the sun, orange fur shining and eyes half-closed. He takes in each moment of life's offerings, whether opening to the outdoor sun or sleeping curled into his favorite indoor cat bed. My beloved teacher.<br />
<span style="color: black;">
</span><u></u></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NuzyBgcY-JNReLlFudIFfJAB9islsHoK76qG7RhGXSgxgcopFm3A_abLV3O5li22Yp1pUu36S6CvKDRz9CTQjczXlvsBA6x9ziLDUSE8whgqQWOee9JPUF9udYcqgjBjOHSHgNrk8tZ9s_0G_XdIdSyn7aSuy121H3Z454CNoCN9s_KxWrC6VA/s640/Bromley%20heading%20back%20home%20%20%231%208-20.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0NuzyBgcY-JNReLlFudIFfJAB9islsHoK76qG7RhGXSgxgcopFm3A_abLV3O5li22Yp1pUu36S6CvKDRz9CTQjczXlvsBA6x9ziLDUSE8whgqQWOee9JPUF9udYcqgjBjOHSHgNrk8tZ9s_0G_XdIdSyn7aSuy121H3Z454CNoCN9s_KxWrC6VA/s320/Bromley%20heading%20back%20home%20%20%231%208-20.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">P.P.P.S. In September of 2022, my dear feline companion leaped over the rainbow bridge close to his 17th birthday. <span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">He was a wonderful friend, pandemic buddy, teacher, trickster, chair-stealer, treat-guzzler, and all-around loveable and loving being. </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Over a period of a few days,</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> </span><span class="markh6enyvp07" color="inherit" data-markjs="true" data-ogab="" data-ogac="" data-ogsb="" data-ogsc="" style="border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Bromley</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">seldom moved off the bed and seemed to be losing his balance and focus. He was still interested in food and made use of the litter, but his spirit and curiosity were much diminished. He stopped challenging me for the computer chair. He had waxed and waned for months and each time I became worried that "this was the end" he made a comeback. I had high hopes that his life energy would turn around again. But this time, he seemed to journey a little bit further away every day, and I felt the kindest thing I could do for him though it broke my heart was to let him go. A compassionate vet visited our home. Over the years, Bromley had lost his fear of visitors. He was comfortable with the vet, and</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> accepted his favorite treats from her hand. My</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> dear </span><span class="markh6enyvp07" color="inherit" data-markjs="true" data-ogab="" data-ogac="" data-ogsb="" data-ogsc="" style="border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Bromley</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">died at home, right next to me on our bed, hearing (for the millionth time) how much I loved him. Our goodbye was sweet and peaceful.</span></span></div><div class="x_elementToProof" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br aria-hidden="true" /></span></div><div class="x_elementToProof" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On his final day, I took him outside and he relaxed in the grass - thus, the photograph below. I also gave him lots of treats and napped with him until the veterinarian came by.</span></div><div class="x_elementToProof" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br aria-hidden="true" /></span></div><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My home, and my life, will not be the same without my beloved <span class="markh6enyvp07" color="inherit" data-markjs="true" data-ogab="" data-ogac="" data-ogsb="" data-ogsc="" style="border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Bromley</span>, aka Broms, Brom-Brom, Bromerosity, the Brommer. I am so glad I was able to give a cat who was so frightened and lonely when I met him at 10, seven years of safety, love, and even a little bit of adventure. And he gave back so much in return. I am so thankful. Here is a photo of him, enjoying the late summer grass on his very last, sweet day in the world.</span></p><div class="x_elementToProof" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguOkb9tYATtyXunYXKO1eaxYByT7kFnfWQec9KME5wTZgwrALN3EGWfOlRVKlZSjnBMSFVRwbPH4Z5aXMmqyoPYCT7297MoSDt7Gj8Rmd0CHRLiIiY9IL3MsbyV_VSO5rGxhpZBBnZrqMbj6w8ByATSI_3oQF9GM4SFHIWnBrPv4tXpa9uUFMH6w/s640/Final%20day%20three%209-10-22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguOkb9tYATtyXunYXKO1eaxYByT7kFnfWQec9KME5wTZgwrALN3EGWfOlRVKlZSjnBMSFVRwbPH4Z5aXMmqyoPYCT7297MoSDt7Gj8Rmd0CHRLiIiY9IL3MsbyV_VSO5rGxhpZBBnZrqMbj6w8ByATSI_3oQF9GM4SFHIWnBrPv4tXpa9uUFMH6w/s320/Final%20day%20three%209-10-22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I will never forget you.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "CG Times"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="x_elementToProof" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div></div>Ruth Q. Leibowitz, Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09684427443278265789noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-733869230950365753.post-36300600263128380982011-05-18T15:01:00.000-07:002011-05-18T15:33:12.250-07:00The Emergence of Spring and Summer<br />
<br />
Many readers will know the myth involving the earth goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone. In this ancient story, young Persephone is "kidnapped" by Hades, the king of the underworld. Demeter is mad with grief over the loss of her beloved daughter. With Persephone trapped in the underworld, spring cannot occur and the earth becomes barren. A "deal" is finally made between the Demeter and Hades by which Persephone lives in the underworld part of the year, and comes back above for the other part -- thus allowing for the seasons of death and regeneration. <br />
<br />
Many years ago I took a mask workshop in which each participant was asked to "take on" the role of one of the characters of this myth. In particular, we were instructed to choose a character with whom we found it difficult to identify. I was young then, and it was easiest for me to identify with the daughter Persephone. The mother Demeter was less similar, yet like me she was a woman who was very much attached to living things. That left Hades, the king of the underworld. I chose to be him for a while. I put on a mask that reminded me of darkness and death, went out onto the mask maker's property, and began to learn about myself. As I did this work, the importance of the underworld became more and more evident. After all, there could be no true appreciation of the bounties of spring and summer were it not for the decline of autumn into winter. The underworld was where shadows dwelled -- shadows that lived inside people, even if they didn't want to own them. Again, there was no real light without the possibility also of darkness. Finally, I thought, Persephone had started out as a "nice" girl, but one who was somewhat dorky and naive before she met me. After spending time in the underworld, she became a much more complex human being -- capable of living in darkness as well as light, appreciative of the many facets of reality. In fact, she came to have an appreciation of the underworld, and felt some sadness at leaving my domain each year. <br />
<br />
Back in the role of an ordinary human being and many years later, I do appreciate the beautiful flowers in their full glory visible all over my neighborhood, vibrant greens of every type of leaf, fiddleheads unfurling into great ferns. I walk forward into spring and summer with gladness for the longer hours of sunlight, and wamer air against my skin. Yet, like Persephone, I have experienced a darker time and place that had its value, too. I note in myself a sense of bittersweetness for the lost winter even while welcoming the warm light.Ruth Q. Leibowitz, Ph.D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09684427443278265789noreply@blogger.com